Chasing Dream Read Online Free

people try to act fancier than they are.
    Larissa follows me to my desk. “So why didn’t you call me?”
    â€œWas I supposed to call you?” I ask. But I think I know what she’s talking about.
    â€œDuh. The race?” Larissa glares down at me. If I’m as short as a second grader, she’s as tall as a sixth grader. “You called everybody else about your little race. But you didn’t call me. Why not, Ellie? Could it be because you know Custer’s Darling Delight and I would win?”
    I stand as tall as I can. “No. I didn’t call you because your number is unlisted.” The Richlands are the only people in town who won’t put their number in the Caldwell County phone book.
    A bit of the punch leaks out of Larissa. But she snaps back, “I have a cell, you know.”
    â€œI know,” I say, slipping into my seat. “And when exactly did you give me your number?” Last night I realized all I’d have to do was ask Cassie for Larissa’s number. I guess I wasn’t all that anxious to call her. But not for the reason she thinks. Larissa’s three-gaited American saddle horse would be the favorite in a horse show but not in a race. I figured I get enough Larissa at school.
    â€œWell, just so you know, Custer’s Darling Delight and I will be at your dumb race,” Larissa shouts. She says it loud and standing up, even though the school bell already rang and everybody else is sitting down. “And we’re going to win!”
    â€œLarissa?”
    â€œWhat?” Larissa spits out the word at top volume, then spins around to see who said her name.
    Miss Hernandez gives her ponytail a tug and says calmly, “Larissa Richland, take your seat. You and I will have a talk about this during recess.”
    â€œBut that’s not fair! It was Ellie’s fault. She—!”
    â€œTake your seat, Larissa,” Miss Hernandez says. “Now.”
    Our whole class gets super quiet. This is the first time in five years of school, counting kindergarten, that Larissa Richland has gotten into trouble with a teacher.
    Today is off to a good start.

    At lunch all anybody can talk about is the big race. At least at my table. Rashawn and Cassie are my two best friends (besides Colt), and they both have backyard horses.
    â€œThis is such a great idea, Ellie,” Rashawn says. “Dusty isn’t very fast. But I still think a race will be so cool. I’m going to braid Dusty’s mane. It’s really grown out over the spring.”
    â€œPerfect!” I tell her. I love Dusty. She’s a big dappled farm horse, as sweet as they come.
    â€œThat will be awesome!” Cassie agrees. “Her braids can match yours.”
    Rashawn’s mother usually braids Rashawn’s hair in neat rows of tiny braids. I’d give anything to be able to do that. My hair won’t even stay put in one braid.
    â€œIs it okay if I ride bareback?” Rashawn asks.
    Dusty is over seventeen hands high. It’s like the eighth wonder of the world that Rashawn can mount that horse bareback.
    â€œOf course you can ride bareback,” I answer. “You can ride any way you want.”
    â€œYou know,” Cassie begins, “I think Misty might be fast.” She stares at the table, then grins at us, her blue eyes wide. “I’m not saying that to brag or anything. I’m not even sure if my horse is fast. I’ve never let him run all out. It’s just that he’s always wanting to go faster.”
    My friend would never brag. Cassandra Bennet, “Cassie,” is one of the prettiest girls in our class. Her hair is blonde, and no matter how it’s cut, it does what it’s supposed to. She’s as popular as Larissa and Ashley. But it’s like she doesn’t even know it. Or care.
    â€œI’ll bet you’re right, Cassie,” I say. “I’ve seen Misty run. He’s got short